“Every time I was alone. Touching myself…getting off to the memory of you fucking me?—”
I pulled her jacket off her shoulders. Dropped it. Got my hands on the hem of her shirt and she lifted her arms without being asked and I pulled it over her head and tossed it and looked at her…at how perfect she was. At those eyes, those gorgeous lips, long dark hair?—
She reached for my shirt.
I caught her wrists.
"Not yet," I said.
"Sawyer." Her voice was tight with frustration.
"Not yet." I held her wrists in one hand, used the other to trace slow down her collarbone. Her jaw set. The brat flickering back. God…god, she was wild. "Tell me what part you thought about."
"You know what part."
"Tell me anyway."
She pressed her lips together. Said nothing.
I dragged my thumb across the top of her bra, unhurried, watching her try to hold still.
"The way I talked to you," I said. "That part?"
Her exhale was sharp.
"Or the part where you stopped trying to be in charge." I leaned in, mouth at her ear. "And just took what I gave you."
"Both," she breathed. "Both, fine, yes?—"
"Good girl.”
I popped the button on her jeans, shoved my hand inside—no preamble, no buildup—and found her already soaked through her underwear.
"Christ," I breathed. "Six months and you show up like this."
She grabbed my shoulders. "Sawyer?—"
"How long have you been this wet?"
"Since—" She choked on it. "Since the paddock?—"
I pushed her underwear aside and got my fingers on her clit, direct, no easing into it. She cried out and tried to close her thighs, but I held them open with my wrist.
"Keep them open," I said.
"I’m too sensitive?—"
"You can." I kept the pressure steady. Relentless. "You're gonna come fast for me."
"Sawyer—"
"Right now." Firm. "Come on."
"I can't just—on command?—"
"You can." I leaned in close, mouth at her ear. "You've been thinking about this for six months. Your body's been ready since you walked out that back door. Stop fighting it." My fingers moved faster. She was shaking. "Come for me, Daniela. Right now."
She shattered.
